Nonsense
by Lamborghini Merci
Summary: "I'm beginning to think that you don't care."


Notes : Wow, I just read Lotus by Eeveebeth Fejvu, and I must say, I am so thoroughly amazed right now. That was the most gorgeous, perfect piece of literature I have read in a long, long time. It was truly beautiful. That story is the epiphany of what KidLiz fanfictions should be. So this, this right here is for the KidLiz community. I'm a huge KidLiz fan - they're my OTP. I may not really know the others in the small fanbase, but I'd love to get to know you guys. Maybe someday we'll talk c:

Disclaimer : I still don't own Soul Eater. If I did, Kid and Liz would have been sucking face by now. And possibly more. Nah, I'm not THAT bad.

Updates On Me : So I decided to start this new thing. Updates on my personal life, so you guys know whether or not to be expecting new chapters/stories, and also because you all care so much it makes me bleed happiness. Yeah, right. Anyway, right now, I have lots of tests. And I'm also acting in a movie. Yep, you heard (read?) me right. I'm the main character in a not-so-blockbuster film called _Eighth_. So I'll be rehearsing and stuff a lot.

On with the story, shall we?

* * *

_Perfection._

_They don't know what perfection is._

He shakes the thought out of his head, forcing himself to remain calm. Elizabeth is here, and if he breaks down, even a disapproving grunt, she'll be worried. A worried Elizabeth is the last thing he needs. It is in his best interest to keep the nervous woman next to him happy. In fact, just casting a glance at her face, brows knitted in concentration, teeth clenching her bottom lip firmly, eyes glued to the television, has him uneasy.

He is reluctant to reach out and touch her - her hands are digging into her jeans so deeply, her fingers have turned red. It's not often that she gets so intensely wrapped up in something, although he has seen it before. Never has he disturbed her when she's having one of these moments. Even Patricia, perched on the arm of a chair directly across from them, has remained quiet, curiosity in her gaze as she peered at her older sister.

This time, something is different. Her breath is short and ragged, not quite sobbing yet, but horribly close. Elizabeth's chest is heaving, her full bosom shaking with the force of it, catching Kid's eye for a moment. He clenches his teeth. He is a gentleman. Gentleman do not leer, especially not at the women they call sisters. Suddenly, he is dragged out of his thoughts by Elizabeth's sharp cry, piercing through the night like a dagger through a beast.

He snaps his neck to look at her, just as Patricia lightly leaps from her chair, landing lightly on the hardwood floor with a grace he didn't know she was capable of. She crosses the room quickly, kneeling at her sister's side, her large blue eyes trained lovingly on the older woman. He waits to see if she will make a move first, but she blinks at him, expecting him to say something first. In a split second, he makes his decision. For Elizabeth's sake.

"...Liz?" He says tentatively, resting a pale hand on her hunched back. He can feel the ridges of her spine through her silk tank top, which scares him for a moment. Is that normal? Is she eating enough? Immediately, his mind begins to race. Something must be wrong with her. He's doing something wrong, and Elizabeth is taking the blow. Patricia senses this sudden change in him, and smacks him lightly on the knee, reminding him of what he has to do. He cannot get off track. He must help Elizabeth.

The woman does not respond, rather continues her panic attack. Her eyes catch his, like a deer in headlights. They're wide, and he's not sure if it's sweat or tears resting below them. He prays inwardly that it is sweat. Elizabeth crying would upset him beyond belief. For a moment, they stare into each others eyes, a gesture which almost breaks him. So much fear and emotion rests in her pupils, more than he's ever seen her display before. It's almost frightening. No. It _is _frightening. He is the first to break the link, glancing at her sister, who has remained sprawled on the floor beside them. She gives him a reassuring nod, silent for once.

"Liz, what's wrong?" What a stupid question for him to ask. He knows what's wrong. This has happened before, and now Elizabeth will think he doesn't remember, and take it offensively. He immediately wants to take back his words, snatch the sound from the air, lock it away somewhere. But of course, the speed of sound is faster than the speed of a Reaper, and he has no chance to explain himself before she stops ignoring him and speaks up.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," the words are choked. Her voice is usually so beautiful, like water flowing over rocks, babbling and soothing. Hearing it so raspy and strained is painful. Even Patricia, usually so oblivious to these kinds of things, visibly flinches. As he watches this movement, just a scrunch of the eyes and a pulling back of the hand, a part of him cracks. Patricia shouldn't have to be put through this. What she is witnessing must be ten times worse than what he is witnessing, and although he knows this, he needs the hyperactive girl with him. It may be selfish, but he's not a hundred percent sure that he can completely handle Elizabeth on his own.

His response takes him a while to formulate. He's not entirely sure if he should stick to being stubborn and never backing down, forcing the words from her mouth, or just remain calm and simply be there for her,"Of course it's something I'm worried about. That's nonsense," he snaps, a bit more harshly then he had planned. He inhales a sharp breath, but doesn't say anything more. He's too careful with her. She's been hardened by street life. Elizabeth Thompson does not need to be treated like a child.

She has calmed down slightly now, but her hands still dig into her legs like they are the last thing holding her to life. She is still sweating, or crying; he can't tell which. Still hunched over herself. But to his relief, her breathing has slowed almost to normal, even if she does still look pained beyond belief. He resists the urge to smooth down her hair. It isn't that badly rumpled, he tells himself. Maybe it would just be better to look away.

This time, when she answers him, she straightens her back, smooths her pants, and looks him square in the eye, an almost predatory mask lingering on her face,"Everything I do is nonsense to you. I'm beginning to think you don't care anymore," she states simply, blinking innocently as she watches the slightly shocked expression he's quickly gained. Patricia gasps to herself, tucking her chin against her collarbone to hide her face. She's scared of this. Her sister and the man she calls a brother cannot fight. They simply cannot.

He doesn't have a retort for this. Nothing he says could fill the void in the room that Elizabeth has just created with those few selective words. All of his concerns about not doing enough for the two girls in the room has just been confirmed. The weight on his shoulders that he has been carrying for months falls, crushing his body in. He wishes it was more than metaphorically. He has let down Elizabeth. He has let down Patricia. He can't bring himself to look at the two of them, one on the couch and one on the floor, staring at him expectantly, waiting for his next move.

They wait for a few minutes before realizing that there is no next move. He's just going to sit there, with his head in his hands, refusing to make eye contact. They're not surprised in the least. Elizabeth knew when she uttered the words that they would upset them. She's not too sure that that's what she wanted, but that's what has happened, and she accepts it graciously, just as she does everything else. She stands regally, motioning for Patricia to follow her out. No real words are spoken, but the looks exchanged between the two sisters is all they need. Leave him alone. Let him be. They leave the living room swiftly, their footsteps almost nonexistent on the steps up to their room.

It is only when they are seated on Elizabeth's bed, legs swung over the side, that Patricia finally says something,"Why, Onee-chan?" So much hurt has been poured into those two words that Elizabeth quivers at the sound of them. The truth is, she has no idea why. She and Kid have always been so close. Yes, they've had fights, but she's never said anything quite so powerful. It's usually just petty arguments, some cursing and occasionally a push or a shove. But Elizabeth knows that the words she has just spoken have hurt him more than a trivial slap ever could. What really troubles her, though, is that it's not just Kid that she's hurt; her younger sister, her baby, her Patricia, has suffered a blow as well.

"I...I don't know, Patti. I honestly don't know," she mutters, defeat ringing clear in her voice, just as she intended. Elizabeth can't bear to put her sister in a place where she doesn't want to be. She figures that she might be able to heal her by admitting that she was wrong. But it isn't her that Elizabeth should be apologizing to. The individual who deserves that is sitting downstairs, full of inner turmoil.

The reply Elizabeth is anticipating never comes. Instead, Patricia leaves the room, sniffling, leaving her alone to wallow in her thoughts just as Kid is doing below her. More then anything, she wants to go down the stairs and fling herself at him and tell him she's sorry, and she loves him, and it'll never happen again. However, if she had learned anything during her grueling days picking through the alleys of Brooklyn, it was that 'sorry' doesn't fix a thing. Life is much more complex then that. Elizabeth sighs heavily, throwing herself down onto the bed dramatically.

"What have you done now, Liz?" She says softly, holding a slender hand in the air and examining her fingernails. Polish, light blue and sparkly, adorns them, creating a false beauty. As she thinks on it, Elizabeth comes to the realization that nails, without anything done to them, are quite ugly. Hard, yellowish, and oddly shaped. But when the polish is added, they become alluring and add to attractiveness. She humphs at this. The thought is simply an excuse not to think about the bond she's just cut into. The precious bond between her, her sister, and her best friend. Elizabeth's teeth grind down onto her lip for the second time that day, the cut she created earlier breaking open again and releasing the taste of blood into her mouth.

All it does is remind her of what she's come to think of as 'the words.' Her mind races in circles; she can practically hear the drumming of the racehorse's feet against the track ringing in her ears. Elizabeth's crazed thoughts are getting her nowhere, in in a bout of frustration, she screams and slams a practiced fist against her comforter. The angry noise resounds through the house, bumping around the walls. She's sure that it has reached Kid and Patricia, but the knock on her door is absent. They don't want to speak to her. Fine. She can deal with that.

When they do talk to her again, they'll probably want to know why she had her little fit in the first place. Elizabeth doesn't want to have to tell them that. Although Patricia lived the nightmares with her, she was too young and too immature to remember. Kid won't understand, no matter how much he pesters her saying he will. He was a rich kid. He's always had a roof over his head. Elizabeth and Patricia, well, they never had. They don't remember their parents or any family members at all, save each other. At least Kid has his father, if no one else.

No.

He does have someone else.

Because he has her.

* * *

Well, I'm not entirely sure if I'll leave this as it is or make another chapter or two. At first I wanted it to be a one shot, but then I was like, hm, maybe I could make this into a whole long thing. It really depends on reviews and stuff. So if you liked this, be sure to review, and it'll be continued. I'm out for tonight,

Kat.


End file.
